Wildcat
by jerzeegurl
Summary: FOR ANON, who requested Jimmy/OC/ season 1. Takes place after 1.12, "A Return To Normalcy." Jimmy finds he's not alone on the beach.


He'd been wandering the shoreline aimlessly for what seemed an eternity, his head pounding, completely overwhelmed. Shitty fucking day turned into an even shittier fucking night but it was almost dawn; almost over. His shoulders tense, his ungloved hands like ice in the crisp November air but he was more than a little drunk; only aware of the plummeting mercury by the throbbing in his leg which—he reasoned—could also be due to all the walking. He couldn't remember where he parked (was really in no condition for driving anyway) but started towards the road nevertheless. Having taken his mother's keys on his way out of the mansion he could always walk to Gillian's if he really needed to. Except…he was exhausted. He knew deep down he couldn't make it the whole way. Eyeing the nearby dunes he resolved to stop and sit. Just for a while; like when he was a kid. But his body had grown accustomed to sleeping wherever it could, the soft sand more pleasing to it than any muddy trench. And he stretched out, gazing up at what remained of the stars until his eyes finally closed.

"Oh!"

Jimmy squinted. He couldn't remember where the fuck he was, one hand grasping the earth below him while the other pushed a mass of hair out of his face; its owner atop him, panting heavily, her breath warm against his cheek. And just when he'd convinced himself that it had all just been another nightmare-that she hadn't cut her hair, she **did **love him—one hard press on his sternum and she pounced off.

"Sorry!" she called over her shoulder, clamoring over the dune, jet black ringlets swaying behind her and she was gone.

"_What the fuck was that_?"

He bolted upright- **not** a good idea. A quick glance down, the fingers of his right hand pressed against his forehead, he winced at the sour taste in his mouth.

Whoever she was, she was real; evidenced by more than the impressions she left in the sand. He felt a warm wetness on his face and smoothed his hand downward to his cheek. Blood. After checking to make sure it wasn't his, he shook off the excess sand and went in search of her.

Judging by her footprints she took off in a hard run towards the sea before breaking right towards the nearest pier. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the bottom of her nightgown blowing in the sea breeze.

And there she was; sitting in the wet sand next to a piling, curled into a tight ball with her head in her knees, all that hair draping over her thin scratched arms. She was barefoot and pale, her left sleeve torn- all the telltale signs of a struggle. Upon hearing his encroaching footsteps she looked up, a scowl quickly replacing her initial look of shock. Her lower lip was split, her eyes red from crying but she narrowed them just the same.

"Ugh, it's just _you_," she hissed. "Look, I already said I was sorry okay? Now Leave. Me. Alone."

She was young. He pegged her for about fifteen _maybe_ sixteen tops. And traumatized. Her tracks were so easily traceable he figured it was better he found her himself, whoever she was running from could very well be close behind. He'd had enough of Eli for one night. And Holloran-that poor fat fuck—after the stunt Nucky pulled earlier Jimmy was sure he wouldn't be able to look him in the eye for at least a month.

"Listen, kid—"

"—Kid? You're one to talk, ain'tcha? That your daddy's suit?"

Jimmy shook his head at the slight, seriously considering walking away and giving her what she wanted. He had enough on his plate already. Still mulling it over he reached mechanically for the flask in his inner pocket, easily convincing himself that if he had just a little more he wouldn't feel so hung over.

"I'll take some of that."

She wasn't nearly old enough, but that hadn't stopped him at her age plus she looked like she could use it so he silently obliged. She rose and grabbed it eagerly, knocking it back like a pro; the contortion of her face thereafter confirming otherwise.

"You got a name?" he ventured.

She took another swig, the sting of the alcohol against her cut bringing fresh tears to her eyes and she jerked her chin down in hopes he wouldn't see.

"Doesn't everyone?"

He shrugged as if in agreement, glancing again at her sleeve while Pearl's voice echoed in his head, "_Pa was the first townsman to go to prison…"_ It didn't sit well with him. It didn't sit well at all. Jimmy cleared his throat, ultimately deciding that he had to ask so he'd know who he was up against although a pubescent lover's quarrel was the preference given his own state. He nodded at her shoulder, fully prepared for her to claw his eyes out-**there are just some things you can't tell anyone**.

"Your Pa do that?"

"What's it to you, huh?" She huffed, squishing her muddy toes in the sand. "Besides…you wouldn't understand. No one would." With that she crossed her arms against herself, turning her body away from him.

"Try me," Jimmy reached out encouragingly and she swatted at him but missed. The fear in her indigo eyes told him she was reacting on instinct. He held up his hands in mock surrender and bid her adieu. Two steps later she reconsidered.

"He's not my father," she choked. "Daddy was a hero. We lost him in the War."

"Lost a lot of good fellas over there."

"I wasn't _finished_," she glared.

"Sorry."

_Wait, why is he the one apologizing? _Still, he nodded for her to continue.

"I'm from Philly originally. Ma and me were down here for the summer with my aunt—Daddy's little sister. She married a doctor…lives out on the Main Line. So, anyways, we're stayin' at this real nice hotel, the Traymore, when we get the telegram from the War Department. And Ma," she paused, shaking her head, "she just completely lost it. Didn't get out of bed except maybe to use the water closet for over a week."

"My condolences."

"Yeah, yeah. Like you really care. Do you think I came all the way out here for you? I don't need you, I don't need _anyone!_"

It was all an act, of course. She wasn't a wildcat at all, just a scared little girl. Calling her bluff would only add insult to injury. Then he remembered how Angela told him how she lured that stray by leaving a saucer of milk out on the fire escape. They were standing close enough that he could see the goose bumps on her arms. She was shivering slightly too, though he was pretty sure she was unaware of it so he took his coat off and placed it over her shoulders.

She looked at him sheepishly, huddling up under it. Jimmy shrugged as if it were nothing, fishing around the pocket of his trousers for his cigarettes.

"It was just me and my mother when I was a kid too."

"Really?"

He nodded, taking a drag.

"I lost both my parents that summer. My Ma, she never recovered. She stopped coming to the beach with us pretty soon after that. Met some wop on the Boardwalk, spent all her time with him. Everything was 'Tony _this_' and 'Tony _that_'. Then, just before Labor Day, they go and get hitched down at City Hall! And it was good-bye Overbrook, hello Bungalow Park."

She shook her head, snarled curls waving in the breeze.

"See, he thought Ma was his ticket to Easy Street…didn't know we were in town on my uncle's dollar. Boy oh boy was he pissed when he found out."

"And he took it out on you?"

"Nah, not at first. He just tossed a bunch of stuff around the house rantin' and raving. That was three years ago. It didn't really start until…well, recently."

Jimmy clenched his jaw and looked out at the horizon. He'd never understood how a man could raise his hands to a woman. No matter how pissed he was at Angela (and he was more heartbroken than anything), he'd never strike her. Not on purpose, not while he was awake. But his companion was still merely a child, making it all the more worse as far as he was concerned.

"It's 'cause I'm a late bloomer," she added, interrupting his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

And she smiled sardonically.

"I was ready for him tonight. Hid a brick in my backpack on my way home from school, tucked it under my pillow for when he came in. Half-past three…right on schedule. Pretended to be asleep when he locked the door. And he's leaning over the bed and all I can smell is the booze and garlic on his breath. And that's when I clocked him as hard as I could. Bastard hit the floor like a rock. Me, I got the hell outta there before he could come to."

He felt sick to his stomach. Of all things he wasn't prepared for that though he certainly should have been. But something was off.

"Your Ma safe? Where's she?"

She cackled.

"Who do you think gave me this fat lip, huh? She knew about it the whole time, even told me so. '_Be a good girl_.' See, he hadn't touched her in God knows how long. In her eyes it all fell to me to keep a roof over our heads."

With that her voice trembled and she swallowed hard. Jimmy put his hand on her shoulder, patting her gently. And she threw herself against him, clinging and openly weeping.

"I can't go back there. I can't, I can't…"

"You don't have to."

She sniffled and looked up at him in relief. Attempting to smile she re-opened her laceration.

"Kelly. Kelly Murphy. Told ya everything else, might as well tell ya my name too."

"James Darmody."

"Nice to meetcha," she pulled away, collecting herself and smoothing some hair behind her ears.

The sun was nearly up and the shops on the Boards would be opening for breakfast soon. She looked exhausted and he felt like hell and they stood under the pier in silence. Kelly yawned as the sky turned pink and he knew he should get her out of the cold.

"Come on," he nodded in the direction of the street, "We'll get that lip cleaned up, something warm in your belly."

She followed a few steps behind as they walked to the car, Gillian's flat just a short drive away. And he sat her down at the kitchenette while he checked the medicine cabinet for cotton balls and peroxide. But it wasn't she who flinched as he dabbed at her open wound, Pearl's screams ever haunting him. Jimmy made her some warm milk after that and she lapped it right up, cupping her tiny hands around the mug like she couldn't get enough. He offered her his old room but found her asleep on the sofa as he was changing the sheets. He covered her with a blanket, tucking it under her chin and opted for his own bed, however strange it might feel after so many years. He awoke some time after noon to find her thumbing through one of his mother's magazines.

"You hungry?"

She looked up, nodding eagerly.

With Gillian spending so much time at the Commodore's she didn't really have much on hand. But toast and jam were sufficient for both. And coffee, plenty of coffee.

"You ever hear from that aunt of yours?"

"Yep," she replied between nibbles. "She sends me a Christmas dress every year. From John Wannamaker's too. They're soo pretty. 'Course I never get to wear 'em. Can't be 'putting on airs'. **He **always passed them along to his boss's daughter."

"Would you like to call her?"

"You mean like on the telephone?"

So Jimmy showed her how to use it and gave her some privacy so the two could catch up. But he peeked out from the kitchen, watching as her face lit up—she had a lovely smile. And soon it was all settled, Kelly was to take the five o'clock Boardwalk Flyer to Philadelphia that evening. Jimmy gave her one of Gillian's more conservative dresses, as well as a coat and gloves which he could easily replace now no thanks to his father.

When she stepped out of the bedroom, Kelly looked almost five years older; face powdered, hair pinned back, a tad of lip rouge as cover up. And Jimmy wondered how it could've been different if she was older, if only by three years or so. How maybe he'd be boarding that train with her, not to Philadelphia but to anywhere.

"Now remember," he lectured as they stood on the platform, "There's gonna be a couple of stops when you first get into the city. Yours is 30th Street. The conductor should announce it, so keep your ears open."

"Got it," she smiled meekly. "Bye."

"Good-bye, kid. Good luck."

Jimmy stood with his hands in his pockets as the whistle blew behind her. She gave him a friendly wave, taking a few strides before turning around; taking him by surprise as she threw her arms around him.

"Thank you," she purred in his ear, hugging him as tightly as her little arms would allow and giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'll never forget you."

Several weeks later, Margaret Schroeder was reading the morning paper in bed when one of the headlines in particular caught her eye.

**_Couple Slain in Bungalow Park in what appears to be botched robbery. Sheriff's office has no leads_**

She looked solemnly at the empty side of her bed. He wasn't perfect, she knew but nor was she. But last night there was a warm fire in her suite as well as in the children's. And she assured herself it was but a small price to pay to be out of that neighborhood.

Meanwhile, across town a copy of the same paper was being used to wrap dishes for the Darmody's upcoming move. Jimmy gave the story a once over before crumpling it around a teacup. He never saw Kelly again but thought of her more than he should have. He'd gone to the beach that night to escape his troubles, and found a stranger's to be just the distraction he needed. He kept turning it over in his mind, which was worse…the stepfather who'd had his way with her or the mother who not only condoned but _encouraged_ it; leading the lamb to the slaughter. In the end he decided the latter was the greater evil, and dined with his own father that very evening.


End file.
